Grievances
by TheSmokingMan
Summary: a watchmen crossover you will not understand


Eyes flickered around the room, curiosity partaking itself within the mind of the both of them, really. There was a chill that traveled up Adrian's legs into the rest of his body. This was unusual, as it didn't happen often. He was a man to be known without fear, which brings forth this great irony that this duo must embrace and withstand.

To Adrian, fear was a subject within the mind that could be controlled with sincere consideration. Yet, there was a weakness within him at this point and time. The fact Jonathan was his handler of this feat. It would certainly be an interesting experience for the both of them.

With an apprehensive sigh, Adrian threw on a trademark smile of his, untucking his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. He felt this may get messy, judging by Jonathan's warnings and previous claims. Yet being the legendary individual he had been labelled as, he hoped those words wouldn't fall upon false claims.

Sighing once more, he relaxed himself. He opened his mouth to say something, and paused for a moment. Adrian approached Jonathan warily, pulling him into his arms once more, momentarily. "If anything happens to me, if I say or do anything out of context, or something that may cause an unwanted reaction from you, I apologize in advance, as it will not be intentional." Smiling once more, he let go of Jonathan gently, longingly; hoping this wouldn't cause a sort of rift between them. Jonathan knew of the effects of this toxin, so Adrian was sure he would understand.

Relaxation was a process Adrian has learned often times does not come easy to others. Yet during his time in India, he had learned of a few strategies he could apply to himself within a stressful situation.

Unfortunately for him, he was unable to access these options within his mindset. Everything was too far beyond his grasp at this moment. Despite his closeness to Jonathan, he felt a sort of detachment. Perhaps this was just the worry in them talking.

He took a seat, as instructed, watching Jonathan fumble about with his genius, waiting patiently for what was to become of him. He prayed in great deals he would cause neither of them irreversable harm; but this wouldn't be the first time. And so we tremble within our souls as the paranoia sets in.

For moments, he felt nothing. There was no reaction immediately, as there was nothing. Adrian thought he must have dilluted the solution for his experience, which was understandable, as safety was an issue here. It was quiet between the two, aside from Jonathan's incessant scribbling and Adrian's slight breathing. His breaths became shorter, the muscles in his neck tightening. Ah, and here was the moment. The delivery; the exhibitionary steps.

The air in the room became dark, similar to a fog. It was all too sudden, as if premeditated. Adrian told himself he /must/ adapt to the situation, and shrug it off. He was fully aware of the situation, despite the hallucinogen; but it was all too relentless. There was a sudden moment of pain and pressure within his frontal lobe. It pulsed painfully, causing Adrian to take in repeated sharp breaths. He began to wonder if this was the beginning, or the worst. Yet he wasn't about to abandon this experiment out of foolishness. There would be no more of that.

He rocked the chair backward slightly, enough to bring his feet off of the ground, before almost forcefully bringing it back down as he took in an incredible breath; as if he had been trapped underwater, drowning. The fog seemed to grow darker, and denser, his palms beginning to persperate. He was losing grip on the chair's arms, his arms throwing themselves to the sides of it sporadically. There was silence for a while between them, which had been broken in a shock moment as Adrian took in another pained breath, releasing a ruptured noise. His eyes shot open with ferocity, as if they were on fire. As if it was such, he brought his hands upward quickly, with such a force the chair he occupied shook and shifted beneath him. He began rubbing his eyes profusely, slamming his hands against them over and over, putting out this imaginary fire. His heart like a massive hammer began to tremor beneath his chest, as the rest of him began to sweat and shake.

Despite his constant control, the ultimate power he had over himself, Adrian could not take hold of his thoughts. The entire rapture of his inner dwellings began to consume him, at a constant; almost never ending.

He was trapped- this fog taunting him. Adrian began to become ensnared with intimidation as he rose from the chair with taut frustration. A hand overing his eyes, the other waving about in the imaginary prescence, finding nothing within his immediate reach. It seemed as if though Jonathan had also vanished. Perhaps this is what Adrian feared most; Ecased in an endless fog, alone. He felt his throat tighten immensely, as he began coughing, as if he couldn't breathe.

Removing his hands from his eyes and the empty air, he brought them to his throat, clawing at it as a cat would a scratching post. His breath was on fire, his eyes red and inflammed. There was a heavy aura as Adrian dropped to his knees as a slave would to a master. He could not hear Jonathan's words spoken so delicately to him, as could only hear nothing. He was surrounded by the room and the walls alone, abandonment constricting his person. But oh, we ponder the irony upon this realization of our situation, as Adrian had once become so strong by such a predicament. Now within the grasp of fear, he had become a shell of his former self.

He could see nothing, yet felt the surface of the floor beneath him. As if upon impulse, his hands ceased their excessive scratching and contusions, leaving the once porcelain and clean skin raw and bleeding. Not enough to cause him great trouble, but easily noticable. He brought his almost massive, red hands to the floor in strikes, as if trying to escape. As if venturing for solace from his nightmare. Yet escape could not be reached at this point, as a keen whistling flew into the man's ears as he threw himself about. A shaking persisted beyond his control, tremoring the surface beneath him. It was all too familiar, yet only such a hypothesis. Only a farfetched situation toward the world, not beyond his control during his stay in this life. The sound began to amplify, and multiply. And we reached contact. His fragile figure began to crawl about the floor, as if running from something. He found himself backed to a wall, his hands to his face, moaning in pain and defeat.

He could hear them dropping now, the imaginary bombs meeting the earth he had come so familiar with within this stasis. His heart continued to piston beneath his chest, as he cried out as if in, well, fear. The cries of his enemy persisted, continuing to greet him with open arms.

The tragic ideal of Adrian becoming permanently damaged by this conundrum could only be considered a memory, now. But the concept was not impossible. Adrian's mind and concious were too strong to fathom this event as something scarring.

Oh, the horror that took place. Such a damned Hell he could not escape without immense struggle. The man's hands reached out, grasping at nothing, his eyes bruised and bloodied. If Adrian could comprehend his status, he could easily signify himself as unacceptable to Jonathan's eyes by his own standards. Jonathan was the only reason Adrian found himself in a greater attempt to leave a lasting impression, despite it certainly being the least of Jonathan's concerns.

Endless time passed forth, Adrian's now fragile figure slowly collapsing to the floor onto his side, wrapping his arms around himself, as if providing his own shield. He lay a beshevled, broken man, holding the similarities of Jonathan's previous departure. He was afraid to shut his eyes, yet as equally terrified to keep them open. They stung with ferocity, the collar on his all white shirt speckled red. He shook and twitched sporadically, the end of his tragedy approaching.

Sights and sounds were dull, blurred. The impact of the event had caused everything to get turned down. He began to feel, once more. Becoming aware. He breathed in a shuddered breath, startled slightly by the abherent and quiet voice approaching him. Adrian felt a heavy pressure against his chest, bringing his hand to address it. Vision was blurred around a focal point in the center of his sight, his eyes half-lidded, flickering Jonathan into sight. It was a shock for a moment, and Adrian suddenly became revelled.

Despite his better judgement, he held back every impulse in the fibers of his being to apprehend Jonathan. If this was merely a taste of his crimes against the human psyche, and human life, Adrian felt a great pity for those he had tormented for so long. He loved Jonathan, yet this left him with a shadow of doubt, lingering within his concious. Adrian didn't want this to be; he didn't want to face the harsh realization as to what kind of a person Jonathan had been. And yet he continues with this experimentation, in Adrian's home nonetheless. He felt bile rise in his throat. His compassion for this man would overcome this, he thought. The possibility of such heinous crimes in the future dissipating. Adrian had to hold this to himself inorder to keep from breaching a world of paranoia.

He held no emotion as he faced Jonathan, unable to move. Air entered his lungs raw with every breath, his brain feeling ten sizes too big. He blinked once, just watching with pain.

There was a warmth, now. A reassurring feeling in the surrounding chasm of the terrible. His still stinging eyes began to water, a pressurized pulse reverberating behind them. He could barely bring himself to speak, but he must. But the words couldn't come to him immediately. He choked, a dry sound escaping. He swallowed dryly, clamoring a bit before coughing for a moment. This moment with Jonathan, while Adrian was in this slightest state of awareness, became of an immense importance. For Adrian's worry for this man's safety became a greater deal, despite his previous trepidations due to his line of work. Worry flew over him in a great wave. He could practically feel his heart stop it was beating so fast.

He took in another breath sharply, as inhaling became more difficult as his wounds and harsh heaving began an attempt at healing. His neck had become inflammed, a heavy heated pain. Similar to that of his heart.

A look of anguish shot into his face as he watched Jonathan's own flood of worry surrounded them. But oh, what a fool Adrian must look at the feet of this man. Defeated and weak. He felt ill. His dry lips parted and a pause escaped, before he managed speaking.

"I'll be fine." His voice was harsh, an illusion of what it may have been.

-  
Mounted against the wall, he waited. For a moment out of his horror he humored himself to thinking Jonathan could share similar qualities to a savior. A sort of destructive withholder of power, yet, Adrian was imperitively the only one Jonathan may have nursed once their trial had ended. The sweat that stained him, his chest aching... Yet he could not find himself to move from his place.

He lingered on, patiently. He was a rock, now. His former self gone in a blaze of confusion and apprehension. Thoughts flew through his mind of a force of will, in an attempt to forget his struggle despite his triumph. His mind was coiled, recalling his own personal distracting history lessons in times of desperation. Yet thoughts of Jonathan brought him back to this. Blame cannot be set by delivery of the scientist, for the subject of study was one of willing nature. There was an ache; a painful, painful ache in his heart, as forgetting has always been Adrian's point of weakness. He continued to absorb knowledge and experience within his life, as if filling that dark void his parents' death left behind. But that was a pathetic excuse for reason. Reality struck him hard in these lasting moments, his eyes half lidded still, watching the floor in hollow desperation, as if looking for something.

He just didn't want to be left alone.

Accepting the tranquil object of apparent healing was not immediate, as Adrian slowly brought his own hand up, gently taking the glass from Jonathan's hands. This pain was genuine, Adrian and Jonathan sharing it. A spectacle of the two of their's abherent consideration was imminent and unending. The man pressed his lips to the glass, the cool water not filling his mouth fast enough. It traveled down his throat in a harsh motion, stinging, but it was progress. The first of many healing devices.

The determination Jonathan displayed was not surprising, yet Adrian's opinion in thinking this was biased. He was fortunate to have him by his side, and cherished every moment of their time, moreso since Jonathan's unwanted departure. Life had come to a position where Adrian could not venture time backward, figureatively thinking what his life now would be if Jonathan had not careened into it.  
Careened isn't the right word, but it was what Adrian would like to think.

Apprehension isn't the right word, either, but it was close enough.

He shifted against the wall, taking in a harsh, pained breath, attempting to not make struggle obvious, despite his physical appearance. He was a mess of fraility.

There was that moment of embarassment that invaded Adrian like a cancer. The moment where it was as if he had failed Jonathan as a dear being; as one who graced the idea that he was incapable, inept. His strength was lost in this fragment of time, and he had been reduced to nothing. Adrian had no better to blame than himself.

His care and longing for Jonathan's happiness blinded him of what he failed to realize was a terrible idea. He had once heard that an idea could be embedded into someone as you would a plant, and depending upon the greater wiseness or ignorance harbored upon its creator, would determine its outcome. Adrian's dwellings of splendor and bliss had become corrupt, a brink of destruction becoming him.

Fear was not a word Adrian would use to describe this conundrum. He would describe this as a cataclysm of morbidity, of truth. Truth was evasive to Adrian, truth had been kind. Realistic scenarioes had been kind. It was as if this was a moment of karma; No good deed goes unpunished. Oh, but here we have a life long /mess/ of justification.

His eyes wandered to face Jonathan, Adrian watching him carefully, bathing him with sight. He licked his now pale lips once before speaking, his voice slowly regaining quality.

"I said I would be fine."

And being this good-natured man, still living and breathing in the cold inside of him, he managed a small smile.

"But thank you."

The languages that were spoken between them were subtle and lacked conversation. But everything that needed to be said always was. They were curt, and tact was no foreign being to them. Their words above all were honest.

But there was no catharsis.

Their claims of devotion are genuine to the hearts of those who find their situation meaningful. As if, there was a sort of deep tenderness to it. In the end there was nothing delightful or pleasant about their situation. The two of them were sinners of an intense caliber, and... Adrian felt a moment of apathy. This visade had surrounded them continually during all of this...time. The man shrugged these off with a smile, everything within their hearts genuine and whole. He would cherish their time, and uphold anything and everything they stood for. But what was that, in the end?

Time was a human invention. Time would symbolize organization, and uphold great moments through history to give future generations insight of the expansive situations. Despite it's invention withholding immense possibility and grand fortune, Adrian thought it man's most empty invention.  
A man could kill himself with time's massive negativities. Time wasted on something that one could consider meaningful, only bringing about a fluid terror to its user. Time was not to be wasted, for time wasted was as if it was a sacrifice for that which is to come. All within a terrible aspect of one's situation, concerning its use. But Adrian wouldn't like to think this was such. Yet the thought of Jonathan's ever changing genius mind could show him there was no genuity.

He would like to think this was the drug talking. Fear, after all.

He watched the figure leave him a heavy cesspool on the now empty floor of the room. Disheveled and confused, hurt. Oh, but the genius at work must not be disturbed, he thought. He must respect that aspect to Jonathan's person, only which-ever-God-Adrian-found-interesting-that-week knowing what information he had derived from this experiment.

Despite Adrian's claim of refined status, he wished he would have stuck around. Ironic, really. The end of the fear driven road he had traveled at his own will only brought the greatest of all to consume him much more than the hallucinogen ever could.

The door to Jonathan's office clicked shut, the lock fastening tightly amid the silence, now. Adrian's hands heavy, brought once again to his eyes, ridding an irritation that recussitated at a constant, unable to bring a mend to his now heavy heart.

Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair indeed. 


End file.
